


but every time I look in your eyes the world gets quiet

by Laeana



Series: ℓove is a seduction game, [9]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, Fix-It, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Relationship(s), Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: He learnt.He learnt how to take care of Charles, how to heal his wounds, to deal with his injuries. To live by his side.Even if he can't help him to silent the racket in his head.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: ℓove is a seduction game, [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002225
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	but every time I look in your eyes the world gets quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778488) by [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana). 



> How to fix what's broken ? Pierre doesn't have the answer.
> 
> (featuring : silence by before you exit)

He enters the apartment, without flowers for the first time in a long time. Everything has been put away, there is hardly any sequel to what happened. It relieves him and at the same time not at all ; it’s not because we cover poverty that it’s not necessarily present.

— Charles ? 

No answer. The worry overwhelms him, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. He, too, is not quite the same as before. He too has changed, is damaged in a different and similar way to his childhood friend.

— Charlie ?

He takes a few steps to the hallway bordering the living room. This same corridor which serves the bedroom and the bathroom. And there he hears them.

Sobs.

He runs a hand over his face, hoping to chase away his fatigue, before entering the bathroom. There he finds the youngest one curled up in a corner, a blade in his hands. Again.

— No, Charlie, no ...

He retrieves the knife and throws it in the sink then carefully raises the forearm of his companion who does not react, or hardly at all. 

He grabs the small pharmacy which is on the shelf just above the sink, he knows the location by heart. He unwraps its contents, frowns. He's going to have to buy disinfectant and bandages for the next time.

He wraps the wound. Then helps Charles to get up and leads him to the living room where he sits him on the sofa. 

— I guess you haven't eaten recently.

— Of course I did ...

— Eating a bit here and a bit there is not eating.

— Why are you taking care of me ?

He prefers not to answer. He begins to cook simply, pasta to begin with, that wouldn't be so bad. He knows every location by heart, thinks he might as well move in here.

He takes the saucepan out of the cupboards to the left of the fridge, fills it with water, salts it, then boils everything. He finds a package of spaghetti. But there isn't much left in the cupboards either. Shopping, apparently.

— Why do you never answer that question, sweetheart ? 

Charles's arms wrap around his waist as his chin rests on his shoulder. He shudders at the touch.

— Why didn't you touch me ? Why haven't you used me ?

Is this the only idea that is made of him or is his interlocutor so desperate that he is leaving that he is ready to offer him anything ?

He grinds his teeth. Smoothly turns around, pulling the other student closer to him. Kissing him firmly, causing the moan of the Monegasque that merges into the touch.

He then pulls back, running a hand over his cheek, still cautiously, in total contrast to the sudden gesture he has just made.

— This I could do it. I could do whatever I want with you, break you in one word, make you bend to my will in a gesture. I could do it.

Charles is panting, clinging to each term making its way out of his mouth, his gaze locked in his, searching for something. Addiction. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, struggling to find his breath himself. Opening his eyelids, his azure blue, tenderly seeing this boy he knew. Too well known.

— But I wouldn't. For the good of both of us, I'd wait until you want it. Until you want this, me. Nothing should be more important. 

It's whispers. Which are lost in such a large room as this kitchen open to the living room. He hears the water boiling behind, soon to overflow, surely, but he cannot bring himself to turn around.

— You're not a problem. You are lost, you may have lost your way, but you are not a problem. You will survive, Charlie. One way or another. You're a little broken, but that's okay. Everyone is in their own way. And I will help you the best that I can.

A heartbreaking, vibrating sob crosses the throat of his companion who hides his face in his hands, his sleeve slips, revealing the freshly made bandage.

Charles is a mess. 

What was left of his routine, what he was clinging to, was swept away by Daniel's departure. And Pierre is angry with the Aussie, knowing what he has escaped, while wishing him happy days.

He slowly approaches, hesitating for a moment, before hugging the younger one. 

— I can’t help you. It’s a fight that one generally leads alone, against oneself. But I'm here anyway. If you don't want to do it for yourself, do it for me. I want to find you, I want to see you again. Please.

Silence all around them, suddenly. The silence that is obvious, because he does not necessarily wait for answers, because it is perhaps a little too early for that. Because he doesn't know, doesn't know anything, because he's afraid, because he loves him, and-

— And I want to come back to you.

**Author's Note:**

> it was harsh, giving hope, even a bit. They started from the wrong way, Charles dived deep. I feel like Charles was too dear to Pierre's eyes, that he couldn't just give up on him like that.


End file.
